Belle

by Sarah Price

  At this, Belle could no longer remain a silent observer.

  Slamming the book shut, Belle frowned at them. “Why on earth should Adam be shunned?” Belle folded the book under her arm and walked toward the gathering at the door. “He’s done nothing wrong.”

  “Well,” Linda started slowly, a slight hesitation to that one word as if she was trying to find a valid justification for her comment. “Let’s start with the fact that he doesn’t attend church service. I’d think the bishop would care about that, being that Adam is baptized and all!”

  That was the first Belle had ever heard of Adam being baptized. Of course, Adam was a great deal older than Belle—probably ten years or more—so, had he ever been baptized, it would have happened long ago.

  Casually, Belle shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t blame him for not attending service, the way people talk about him so. Surely everyone would simply gawk at him!” Belle glanced at the back of Anna and Drusilla’s heads as they continued staring out the windowpanes. “I’m sure the bishop has taken that into consideration. His presence would be a distraction from worship and fellowship, don’t you think?”

  “I heard the bishop goes out there once a month to provide him spiritual leadership.” Drusilla seemed pleased with herself for having this tidbit of knowledge.

  “That’s something, at least.” Belle started to walk toward the counter, wanting to pay for her book and return home. It would take her a good forty-five minutes to walk there, and she wanted to get supper started early so that her father could retire for the evening. He needed to get up extra early the next day to prepare for his journey after doing the morning chores. And on Wednesday morning, he would leave at five o’clock in order to get to Liberty Village by eight, when the store opened.

  “I’m ready to pay now,” she said when not one of the Troyers left their post at the door.

  Reluctantly, Linda returned to the counter to ring up Belle’s purchase.

  The entire community knew about Adam Hershberger and how he lived a reclusive life. Belle couldn’t understand their fascination with the man. As far as she knew, he never bothered anyone, rarely came to town, and seemed set in his ways. But for some reason, at the beginning of autumn and spring, those two times a year when he came to town, usually early in the morning, to stock up on dry goods for the upcoming season, everyone talked about it for weeks. The stories usually changed, too. If he bought two forty-pound bags of flour, after two weeks it grew to twenty bags! If he spoke to someone, another rare occurrence, by the time two weeks had passed, it had become an agitated argument. Belle merely rolled her eyes whenever she heard Adam’s name and the ridiculous stories people told. She had better things to do than participate in such folly.

  She was halfway home, the road having changed from macadam to dirt and gravel, when she heard a buggy approaching her from behind. She stepped onto the grass, the road being more narrow here. A quick glance over her shoulder caused her to catch her breath. It was a strange-looking buggy, the top black instead of the regular gray color that the other Amish in their community drove. And the undercarriage was tapered, not square. As the buggy approached, Belle knew that it must be Adam Hershberger driving it. The doors were shut and there were hardly any windows—just narrow slits so that the driver could see his side mirrors.

  But Belle could see enough to catch his eyes, at least one of them, staring at her.

  For a moment, she felt oddly uncomfortable. A chill went down her spine, and she almost wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. But just as quickly as it happened, the chill vanished.

  She stopped walking, and as she kept her eyes on that small window, she lifted her hand to wave at him, a small smile on her lips.

  For a moment, the driver seemed to slow down the buggy, and from this vantage point, she could see inside the larger front window. He kept staring at her, a shadow of a man, dressed in all black except for the front of his white shirt. She couldn’t imagine that anyone would be wearing a dark jacket and heavy hat in such weather. It must have been terribly hot inside the buggy.

  As the buggy passed her, she thought she heard his voice, and she definitely saw him lift the reins to slap upon the horse’s croup. The buggy lurched forward as the horse began to canter down the remainder of the road toward the bend that would lead past Belle’s home and toward Adam’s own farm, several miles down the same lane.

  Once he was gone, Belle continued walking along the road, wondering what sort of man wouldn’t even open the doors of the buggy in order to let in some fresh air on such a hot summer day.

  By the time she made it back home, it was almost three o’clock. She set her bag on the counter and hurried over to where she had hung her apron. After tying the apron around her waist, she set about her daily task of preparing supper for her father and sisters, the strange but brief encounter with Adam Hershberger long forgotten.

  Chapter Two

  “Kum, Belle!” As he stood on the other side of the opened kitchen window, Melvin excitedly motioned with his hand for her to join him outside.

  “What is it, Daed ?”

  He grinned. “Kum see what your daed has made! This one will make you proud.”

  Belle wiped her hands on her apron. “You know what the preachers say about pride, Daed.” But she smiled anyway as she crossed the floor to where he waited for her, by the back door. She was always proud of him. His passion for creating something new or more practical was certainly a gift from God. If only other people would start believing in him as much as she did. “Are you finished with the new prototype then?”

  “I am indeed!” He grinned at her, his lower lip partially hidden by his mustache-less beard. It was so gray that it was almost white. But he always kept it neatly trimmed rather than letting it grow shaggy, like some of the other older men in their church district. And his eyes, so dark yet so full of life, sparkled as he gestured for her to walk faster. “I want you to see this, Belle. It’s finally ready and just the way I imagined it.”

  His joy was contagious, and Belle hurried to follow him down the warped porch steps and over the patchy yard to the barn. It was a newer barn, which always puzzled Belle since the house was in such disrepair. And yet what should have housed forty cows in any other Amish farm now was home to only six cows and a horse. The rest of the barn was filled mostly with rusty farm equipment and piles of metal that Melvin used to make his grills. He loved soldering and fixing rakes, hoes, and other items for some of the farmers in Echo Creek. The only problem was that the larger equipment rarely broke, and the smaller items were often disposable; it was more expensive to repair them than to simply replace them.

  “Just think, Daed,” Belle said as she walked behind him, trying to keep up with his eager footsteps. “It’s only been a year since you started building this.”

  “A year, Belle!” He laughed and tugged at his gray beard. “It seemed that I started this design so long ago but now, looking back, it really wasn’t. Oh! How I pray this changes our lives. I won’t be greedy and hope for more than we need, though. I just want enough. That is all. Enough for you and your schwesters.”

  Belle slipped through the doorway into the back room of the barn, where her father built most of his inventions. Scattered throughout the dusty room that would normally have been filled with bales of hay were discarded dreams: a better-designed buggy wheel, a less-expensive clothesline pulley system, a nonbreakable kerosene lantern. Each item was useful, solving a problem, items that so many people in their community could use. Unfortunately, most of the Amish already had these items, even if they were inferior versions, so they had no reason to buy another, even if it would make their lives a little bit easier or more comfortable; that would be, after all, in contradiction of the principles of the simple and more austere lifestyle, devoid of luxuries and modern amenities, decreed by the Ausbund, which contained their articles of faith, as well as the pragmatic ways these were to be applied by their community.

  And that was pr
ecisely why the Beilers never had enough of anything. Without people buying the products that Melvin made, there was little income to pay bills and feed the small family.

  “Ja, Daed, that’s all we ever needed. Enough. So even if this doesn’t sell, we’ll find something else to fall back on.”

  In the middle of the room stood her father’s latest invention: a grill. But it didn’t look like any type of grill Belle had ever seen. Instead of being raised from the ground, it actually rested on the ground. The main part of the grill was a sturdy metal rectangular box. That was where people would burn wood or coals. On either side of it were metal poles and a pulley wheel. The grill hung from the support poles, and the pulley wheel allowed it to be raised or lowered. Belle also noticed that there was a hook attachment in case people wanted to cook with a cast-iron pot, the old-fashioned way. At the top of the pulley, there was a lever that could stop the grill from being lowered farther than it needed to go. And the grill tilted so that the fat from cooking food would drain into a special holding compartment, either to be discarded or used for cooking or brushed over the meat.

  “Oh, Daed !” Belle could hardly contain her delight. This invention made sense. This invention was practical. This invention might actually sell. “It’s so different from the last one you made!”

  Like a small child eager to show off, Melvin ran over to the wheel, moving the lever to spin it slowly, up and down. “It took me a while to get the tension on the wire just right, but look at this!” He turned the wheel so that the grid lowered to rest just over the wood box. “Even when it’s all the way down, it is still tilted. And the wheel doesn’t get hot! I had to use a special metal.”

  Belle remembered far too well the last time her father had created a grill—it was round and had swung in and out, rather than up and down. He had burned his hands quite a few times, once quite seriously, and Belle had had to put salve on them until they healed. “I daresay that the rectangular shape is much better than the round one, don’t you think?” She reached out her hand to touch the top of the grill. “The design will dispense the heat better, anyway.”

  Her response made Melvin smile at her, pride in his eyes. “That’s my girl. Always thinking. I wish I had known that before I started working on the round one. Ja, vell, this one is better anyhow. The lowering of the grill is much more efficient than the swinging arm contraption. Much better for controlling the cooking temperature. And it looks much sturdier, wouldn’t you say?”

  “It does indeed!”

  He clapped his hands together. “Tomorrow I’ll ride to Liberty Village, Belle. I may not return for a day or two, so I’m going to need you to take charge of the haus.”

  She nodded her head. She knew only too well what he was thinking but not saying: her sisters would not be apt to do much while their father was gone. They would see it as a time to go visiting with friends or even sneak over to the lake to wade in, perhaps up to their waists! Belle would have to make certain that the cows were fed and milked and the garden weeded and watered. She didn’t mind having to do the work for her sisters, but she often wished they would show a little more responsibility. It would be hard to find proper suitors for them if people suspected how little they helped around the farm.

  “Of course, Daed.”

  Melvin reached out and touched her cheek. “I know I can always count on you, Annabelle. Reckon I don’t even have to ask, do I now?” Dropping his hand, he sighed. “So much like your maem. Kind, thoughtful, considerate . . .”

  Belle blushed. “No more so than others, I suppose.”

  Her father gave a soft laugh. “And modest, too, ja?” Together they moved out into the yard, and he turned toward the house, shielding his eyes from the sun. “If the stores in Liberty Village agree to carry my grill, sell it to the Englischers, Belle, mayhaps we’ll have more than enough. Mayhaps I’ll finally be able to fix up this place.”

  Following his gaze, Belle tried to see what her father saw. The house needed a fresh coat of paint. The shrubs around the front door were overgrown and tired-looking. And the driveway needed some new gravel to fill in the ruts and cover up the worn areas of dirt. But to Belle, it was home, and perfect just the way it was. “You know what they say about putting the cart before the horse . . .” she quipped in a light tone.

  Melvin glanced at her. “And sensible, too, I reckon. Might as well add that to my list of your best traits.” But he smiled, clearly taking no offense at her words. “I best go on to town, then. I need to pick up some feed for the cows.”

  Belle watched as her father wandered back to the barn. She could hear him moving about, talking to the horse in a soft voice as he brushed down the mare in preparation for harnessing her. Sighing, she returned to the house, knowing that she needed to complete her kitchen chores before heading out to the garden. There was always so much work to do. But working in the garden was her favorite chore. She loved feeling the dirt beneath her fingers and watching the progress of the vegetables as they grew.

  With autumn just around the corner, Belle knew that her days of gardening were winding down. She had already canned tomatoes and beans for the winter months. But there were still pumpkins and squash to tend. After the last of the vegetables were harvested, Belle would prepare the soil for the next spring planting. And then she would be finished working outside for the year.

  “Mornin’, Belle,” her sister said when Belle walked into the kitchen.

  “Morning? It’s almost afternoon, Susie.”

  Susie made a face at her. “You know I wasn’t feeling well yesterday.”

  “Oh, ja ! I almost forgot.” Belle tried not to smile as she poured coffee into a mug for her sister. “And Verna? I reckon she’s feeling poorly, too?”

  “Danke.” Susie ignored Belle’s quip as she took the mug of coffee and sipped at it. “You sure do make good coffee.” Setting down the mug, she looked at Belle. “What’s on our list for today?”

  Belle glanced around the kitchen. She had already made breakfast and cleaned those dishes. Susie would have to make her own meal if she didn’t want to wait for dinner. And the bread was almost finished baking in the oven, as attested by the rich fragrance permeating the entire house. “Not much left inside. But the garden needs work.”

  This time, Susie waved her hand at Belle. “Season’s almost over, Belle. You don’t need to work the garden.”

  But Belle was adamant. “We need to prep the soil for next year. You know that. Planning and preparation are the two most important tasks for a farmer.”

  “Whatever you say, Belle.” She glanced up when she heard the sound of the buggy. “Is Daed going somewhere, then?”

  “Ja, to town. He finished his prototype and intends to go to Liberty Village tomorrow morning.”

  At this news, Susie immediately jumped up and hurried to open the screen door, calling out, “Daed ! Daed! I want to go with you!”

  Belle sighed as her sister disappeared. Once again, Belle was left alone to do all the chores. There was no point in reminding Susie that many hands made light the work. Instead, as the buggy pulled out of the driveway, Belle wandered outside to the garden, deciding that if she had to do the chores alone, she’d at least start the one she preferred the most.

  It was almost an hour later when she heard someone approaching from the lane.

  “Good day, Belle.”

  She didn’t have to look up from her hoeing to know that Gabriel was walking down their short driveway and headed in her direction. She rolled her eyes before she stood up and turned around, forcing a pleasant smile on her face. “Hello, Gabriel. What brings you this way?”

  He wore his Sunday pants and a clean white shirt. It was clear that he had not been working on his parents’ farm this morning. And from the pleased expression on his face, she knew that his visit to their farm, which was some distance from his parents’, was of a social nature. After he sauntered up to the gate that surrounded the family’s garden, he leaned against it, and one of the vertical
slats came loose. Quickly, he reached down to wedge it back, shoving the rusted nail back into the too-wide hole in the post.

  “Thought it was a nice day and wanted to see how you’re doing all the way out here.”

  Belle laughed. “All the way out here?” She gestured toward the main road. “We might be the last house in Echo Creek, but we’re certainly not so isolated. Town’s only two miles from here, and with plenty of farms along the way.”

  Gabriel raised an eyebrow at her. “We sure don’t see much of you in town.”

  “I was just there yesterday.”

  Gabriel seemed surprised to hear that. “No one told me.”

  She reached for her hoe and began picking at the weeds once again, her toes digging into the soil. Like most Amish women (and some men, too) she preferred the freedom of not wearing shoes and quite often went barefoot, even when she went into town. She was glad that she wasn’t wearing any now, otherwise, Gabriel might have tried to ask her to go walking with him. Even he would know that no respectable woman would go walking with a man without wearing her shoes! “Can’t see why anyone would, Gabriel. It’s hardly news worthy of repeating.”

  He puckered his lips and kicked at a stick on the ground. “Aw, Belle, why are you so standoffish to me?”

  She could think of a million responses to that question, but she had always been taught good manners, and that included not always speaking her mind. “You know how much work we have to do here on the farm, Gabriel.”

  “Farm.” He snickered and glanced around.

  Reason number one, right there. “Is something I said funny?”

  “Nee, nee.” Still, he wore a smirk. “Not much of a farm now, is it, though?”

  Belle pursed her lips and shot him a stern look. “It does well enough for us, Gabriel. Might not be as fancy as some other farms, but we make do. And I don’t appreciate your insinuating other wise.”

  He ran the back of his hand across his mouth, almost as if he were wiping away the smirk. “Aw, Belle, I’m sorry. It’s just . . .” He paused and looked around. The fields were full of weeds, and the barn was in need of a fresh coat of paint. Even the windmill was rusted. “Your daed sure could use a man around the house to help him fix this place up. Why! My own daed remembers when this here was one of the most productive farms in Echo Creek!”